Headache
by JulesDPM
Summary: Short Gordon story, guaranteed plot free and easy on the brain!


Headache

_Author's note: Thanks to Lynn for the beta._

Gordon rested his aching head against the cool window. For a second the aching eased but then swiftly returned. On the other side of the window the monsoon-like rain splattered huge drops onto the glass. The drops merged into rivulets and ran down. Gordon watched them for a minute, feeling too dreadful to move.

_The damn weather!_ A swim in the sea around Tracy Island would surely help to cure his headache but the weather outside was appalling and he knew the sea would be churning angrily and not exactly be ideal swimming conditions.

He stood up straight and felt nauseas for a moment. Okay, perhaps it was a migraine and not a headache. Whatever it was, two doses of the pain relief he'd found in the sick bay had not helped it any. Kyrano had even given him some herbal tea but as soon as it had hit Gordon's stomach he had rushed his bathroom and heaved into the toilet for a couple of minutes.

He wandered out of his bedroom, looking for something to distract him. He went over to Alan's room. He pushed the door fully open and peered in. Alan was playing on a games' console. Gordon was just thinking about going over to watch when he realised that the game in question was a car racing game. Alan was fully absorbed in the race and providing a commentary over the top of his efforts.

"And as he sweeps into the final lap, Alan Tracy is well ahead of the field. He's just racing himself now, hoping to break his personal best lap time. He takes Corner Two fast, but is it too fast? Has he lost the back end of the car? No! He continues down the short straight, sure to have shaved a few hundredths of a second off…"

Gordon winced. Alan's voice was getting louder and higher pitched and alongside the tyre screeching sound effects of the game the noise throbbed in Gordon's head. He backed out of the room and walked on. He went into the kitchen but there the noise was even worse. Scott was loading the dishwasher with Tin Tin helping and the two were having an animated discussion.

"When I say never, Scott, I mean never!"

"I do stack the dishwasher when it's my turn." Clang! Scott banged a saucepan into the washer.

"It was your turn yesterday." Clink! Tin Tin handed him two glasses.

"Well, I _was_ a bit busy with a rescue." Smash! Scott tried to shove two plates in a once.

"Oh, there's always some convenient rescue when any of you boys have chores…"

Gordon hurriedly shut the door. A wave of dizziness overcame him. He stood still for a moment, trying to push down the sick feeling rising up his throat. Okay, that was it. Time for a swim. He went back to his bedroom and changed into some swimming trunks. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the lounge.

As he entered the lounge he gritted his teeth. Virgil was hammering out a jazz tune on the piano. It was modern jazz and was, to Gordon's ears, too loud, inharmonious and disjointed. Gordon strode as quickly as possible to the patio door. His hand was just reaching for the handle when his Father's voice sounded sternly across the room.

"Where do you think you're going, Gordon?"

Gordon looked down at his be-towelled lower half and gave a small sigh at his father's insistence that he state the obvious.

"For a swim," he replied wearily.

"I don't think so," came the reply. "I take it you have actually looked out of the window at the weather?"

"Yes, Father, but you know I've no problem swimming in rough seas."

"These are too rough, Gordon, it's dangerous. If life and death mattered on a rescue I wouldn't think twice about letting you but it is stupid to put yourself at risk for a bit of amusement, and you know that."

"The pool then," answered Gordon, injecting a pleading look into his sore eyes.

"And get struck by lightning? Go and get changed and find something useful to do." Jeff Tracy clearly meant this an order to be immediately obeyed and he turned back to the work on his desk, effectively dismissing Gordon.

Gordon turned and headed out of the lounge, feeling too weak to put up a fight. He wandered down the hall and then, realising he had no idea where he was heading, stopped. He wasn't sure how long he had stood there, contemplating the throbbing behind his temples, when Grandma found him.

"Oh dear me," she remarked, "who stole your pool, Gordon?"

Gordon couldn't even raise a smile. Suddenly, at the ripe old age of 24, he wanted to be a child again and have Grandma look after him and literally soothe his brow.

"Grandma, I have the worst headache anyone had ever and it won't go away and Dad won't let me go swimming and everyone else is noisy."

"You don't look too good," she was now speaking softly. "Don't worry, we'll sort it out. Come with me."

Gordon dumbly followed her. She took him to her bedroom and over to the bed. "Sit here for a couple of minutes, darling."

Gordon did as he was told and sat on the edge of the quilt, staring at the flower wallpapered wall and the ornaments dotted around. Suddenly Grandma's cool hand was on his arm. "Come this way." She led him to her en-suite bathroom. Gordon's eyes widened at the sight and smell that accosted him. His grandmother spoke.

"The trouble with you is that water always has to be cold, salty and rough to be any fun. For once you can try my version."

Gordon looked at the bath full of hot, steamy water and masses of pink bubbles smelling faintly of rose. The lights were dimmed but scented candles around the edge of the bath provided a calming glow. Grandma tweaked the towel off Gordon's waist.

"Off with your trunks and get in. It will do you a world of good."

Gordon's eyes became shocked as he looked at Grandma. "Perhaps you could leave the room first?"

"Oh deary me, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"And nothing you'll see again," replied Gordon firmly and got in the bath with his trunks on. The hot water immediately started to ease his muscles and he groaned.

"Now, lie back and relax," said Grandma. "Close your eyes and I'm going to put some cold pads on your eyes."

Gordon did as he was told and two cool, damp soft cotton wool pads were placed on his eyes. He heard Grandma creeping out of the room and gave into the sensations. The warm, soft water, the aromas, the whole ambiance soothed and calmed him and after an indeterminate length of time his migraine was down to a dull ache and he felt distinctly better.

Finally Grandma came and checked on him and he thanked her.

"You're wonderful. I feel almost human."

"I'm very pleased. You'd should go and get some sleep now. You'll be even better after a nap."

Gordon nodded. He was about to get out of the bath when he took in his surroundings again: the scented bubble bath, the candles, the soft lilac towels ready to dry him.

"Just one thing, Grandma."

"Yes, my darling?"

"Let's never mention what happened here to anyone, ever, okay?"

Grandma smiled.

The End


End file.
